Interview with a 53-Year-Old Sober Person: Joan As Police Woman
"I am done with being cool. It's not all that."
Good morning, rainy Tuesday. Welcome to The Small Bow.
Today, we continue our Sober Oldster interview series with musician Joan Wasser, AKA Joan As Police Woman. Joan’s had an intense, magical life before and after she stepped into sobriety, full of music, art, tragic loves, and fun chaos—she’s existed as a human in many forms. Here’s a part from her questionnaire that I related to, frustratingly:
“I continue to learn (and fail) to put more milliseconds between an external event and my reaction to it. I’m better than I used to be but still regularly embarrass myself. I will be working on this for the rest of my life. I am impatient. This bores the hell out of me. I have learned that impatience does nothing but lessen the quality of my life, but I can still lean into it.”
I have impressed myself when I’ve been willfully patient in ways I never was before, for example, sitting in traffic, standing in line for a passport photo, or waiting for emails to be returned. But I’m still very impatient about my emotions—any downward dip into fear, and I still look for the quickest escape. Sometimes that’s anger, but sometimes it’s eating the entire Whitman’s Sampler in under ten minutes. I recognize the space between the quiet and the screaming self-destruction that exists, but I forget that I’m allowed to exist there.
Something Clancy Martin wrote in a TSB essay a couple of years ago that has stuck with me:
“I am impatient to become the person I am not, and that is precisely the problem. This is one of the paradoxes of addictive and suicidal thinking. I want so much not to be me. But I will always only be who I am.”
We will always be only who we are. We are probably better now that we’re sober. We are not perfect; we are not saints. But patience is our greatest strength.
Onward, et cetera.
The full interview with Joan is below. Thanks again to Sari Botton from Oldster for the collaboration.
And if you love what we do, please consider a paid subscription. — xx AJD
How old are you and how long have you been in recovery?
I am 53. I have been sober 19 years.
How did you get there?
In 1990 I began touring with bands. I was 20. Playing music is a profession where it's easy to be wasted most of the time. It was expected. I was good at it. The ‘90s was big on being wasted. I had tried the drugs but mostly stuck with whiskey and weed. In my mid-20s, I lost my fiancé in a terrible accident. The pain that followed was far beyond anything I could handle. I searched out stronger drugs to dull the pain.
Six years of heroin led to recurring dreams of my mother at my funeral. I quit the heavy drugs; returned for a time to wine and weed. Less than a year later, I woke one morning after driving drunk the night before and realized for the first time I could not be responsible. I never drank or used drugs again. Why it happened that morning and not any other I cannot tell you.
In the last years of being out there, I found myself becoming friends and collaborators with people in recovery. I was taken by how they seemed to glide through life, laughing at hardships and treating themselves and others with gentleness. While I didn't consciously realize it, their recovery made a big impact on me. When I hit my first meeting at 23 days it turned out I already knew a lot of people in the rooms.
What are the best things about being in recovery?
Hard to get that into a concise answer, but basically everything. At first it was no hangovers, fewer terrible choices and reintroduction to the part of the day called "morning." Soon after it was actually enjoying accountability, new friends in recovery, many of whom are still in my inner circle, gratitude for escaping my previous life, and more laughing — at myself and at everything. Later it was reaching other levels of self-forgiveness, knowing I can trust myself, making fewer rash decisions, and finding the relief in asking for help. I began to notice the parts of life I always rushed through.
I am always searching for better ways to live in the tenets of the serenity prayer; acceptance of what's out of my control, courage to change, and knowing the difference.
One of the very best parts of recovery is going to a meeting anywhere in the world and feeling at home. We are everywhere and we are thriving.
What's hard about being in recovery?
My immediate answer might be "no quick escape," but that's not really true. If I want to check out I can distract myself in so many ways — exercise, hitting the Russian baths, eating ice cream, or buying my 25th pair of ‘70s leather pants. The other completely harmless way to get out of my own way is reaching out to someone who's having a hard time. I am so grateful for the kindness that has been gifted to me over and over.
I have been told I used to be “bulletproof” which, of course, was an act. In order to transition out of this role, I had to become aware of the cruelty of my inner voice. Rather than pouring whiskey on it, I turn towards it and negotiate. That voice is a traitor, a zombie, a vampire. That voice is persuasive, manipulative, and sneaky. I have cautiously made friends with these creatures and their attributes. It’s up and down but over time we are learning to get along.
How has your character changed? What's better about you?
I am better at admitting my wrongdoings. I am better at acknowledging my fears. I am better at being gentle. I am better at noticing when I’m being a dick and rather than doubling down, actually letting up.
I have been told I used to be “bulletproof” which, of course, was an act. In order to transition out of this role, I had to become aware of the cruelty of my inner voice. Rather than pouring whiskey on it, I turn towards it and negotiate. That voice is a traitor, a zombie, a vampire. That voice is persuasive, manipulative, and sneaky. I have cautiously made friends with these creatures and their attributes. It’s up and down but over time we are learning to get along.
What do you still need to work on? Can you still be a monster?
I continue to learn (and fail) to put more milliseconds between an external event and my reaction to it. I’m better than I used to be but still regularly embarrass myself. I will be working on this for the rest of my life. I am impatient. This bores the hell out of me. I have learned that impatience does nothing but lessen the quality of my life, but I can still lean into it. Working on it. I assume few people actually love confrontation but I could certainly benefit from a quicker draw. More time spent thinking (and stressing and/or obsessing) about anything, and not simply talking directly about it, is ultimately time and energy wasted.
What’s the best recovery memoir you’ve ever read? Tell us what you liked about it.
The best recovery memoirs are the stories I hear and see directly. There is nothing more beautiful than witnessing firsthand the before and after; watching someone TURN THAT SHIT AROUND because they wanted it bad enough. GOLDEN.
What are some memorable sober moments?
At the tail end of my time using, I began writing and recording the songs which would end up on my first full-length album; the record that would start my career. I got sober in Oct '04. At that point, I had the record 85% completed. A couple of months later I got a call from the producer while on tour: "Joan, I have some bad news. The hard drive which contained all your recorded parts (vocals, guitar, keys, strings) crashed. None of the data is recoverable. It was not backed up, like it should have been."
I remember staring into space, two months sober, shocked by most everything but especially this. After a long pause I heard myself say, "That's alright, I'll record it better the second time." I did. If I had released the album I had recorded while still using, I'd not be where I am today. However I interpret it, god/ Higher Power/ the powers that be/ luck/circumstance/etc. — I got a second chance, just like I did in life. When I arrived home, I hugged the engineer who hadn't backed the hard drive up. We're still very good friends.
I go to meetings and keep in close contact with a large circle of sober friends. I tour with sober people. I laugh a lot and attempt to get everyone around me laughing. Laughing is key to a good life. I am done with being cool. It's not all that.
Are you in therapy? On meds? Tell us about that.
Yes, therapy. First talk therapy and now internal family systems/parts therapy.
I was sober eight years before my therapist finally said, "You have clinical depression." I had this idea that I must not be trying hard enough if I was still plummeting into desperate sadness.
I got on meds. Now I just feel like me and not like I'm getting crushed under the weight of a blue whale. There are sometimes grumblings in recovery about meds being yet another drug and in some way cheating. I strongly disagree. Meds have allowed me and so many others in recovery to find a life worth living.
What sort of activities or groups do you participate in to help your recovery? (i.e. swimming 12-step meditation, etc.)
I got into hot yoga, which is truly an extreme sport, slightly before I got sober. It was part of why I quit using. I couldn't pull off ANY of the things the other people in the class were doing. I was also in the back row, unable to stop laughing, like a bratty kid in school. I had no self-control. It was a real eye-opener for me. Because I was so horrified (competitive) I thought I'd get sober so I could get better at this thing I sucked at. Twenty years later, I still do hot yoga. It's an integral part of my recovery.
I go to meetings and keep in close contact with a large circle of sober friends. I tour with sober people. I laugh a lot and attempt to get everyone around me laughing. Laughing is key to a good life. I am done with being cool. It's not all that.
Joan Wasser is a songwriter, music producer, and live performer who works under the name “Joan As Police Woman.” She has released ten albums and regularly tours the world with her music. She talks to most dogs on the street in her hometown of Brooklyn, assuming they will respond in English one day.
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Plus, the full Clancy Martin essay I referenced above.
A POEM ON THE WAY OUT:
First Kiss
by Kim Addonizio
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Afterwards you had that drunk, drugged look
my daughter used to get, when she had let go
of my nipple, her mouth gone slack and her eyes
turned vague and filmy, as though behind them
the milk was rising up to fill her
whole head, that would loll on the small
white stalk of her neck so I would have to hold her
closer, amazed at the sheer power
of satiety, which was nothing like the needing
to be fed, the wild flailing and crying until she fastened
herself to me and made the seal tight
between us, and sucked, drawing the liquid down
and out of my body; no, this was the crowning
moment, this giving of herself, knowing
she could show me how helpless
she was—that’s what I saw, that night when you
pulled your mouth from mine and
leaned back against a chain-link fence,
in front of a burned-out church: a man
who was going to be that vulnerable,
that easy and impossible to hurt.
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ALL ILLUSTRATIONS BY EDITH ZIMMERMAN